


New Lows/New Highs

by Sheselectric



Series: The Killing Moon [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sexual Tension, Spectre Garrus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheselectric/pseuds/Sheselectric
Summary: Garrus knows it was a one-time thing, but he can't get her out of his mind. And when you work together, things can become sticky really fast.
Relationships: Female Shepard & Garrus Vakarian, Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Series: The Killing Moon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721305
Comments: 17
Kudos: 102





	New Lows/New Highs

**Author's Note:**

> Replaying the trilogy, so of course I had to write another one-shot. A continuation to Far From Any Road, but can be read as a stand-alone.

They don’t talk about it.

They’re sitting on the shuttle, he against one wall and she against the other. There’s a heavy shake as the pilot accelerates, and they both grasp on the handles to stop themselves from falling. In the midst of it all, their eyes lock.

Garrus is unsure when was the last time she looked at him. It wasn’t when they were coming back from _that_ mission. Not in the week after. Not during the assignment they were on now. The last time must have been when he was riling her up against the wall; her hot, sweaty body sliding against his plates.

A shiver runs down his spine on the memory and he curses himself internally. He wonders whether Shepard can sense that, the way he can sense her, but her icy gaze is no indicator.

He holds it a few seconds longer, mandibles clicking until he finally gives up and turns his head away. The shuttle shakes one more time. Shepard exhales quietly and that’s the last he hears from her for the rest of the ride.

~

When they dock at the Citadel a few days later, she disappears before the rest of his crew does. He’d like to tell himself that it has nothing to do with him, but he’s smarter than that. And he wishes it wouldn’t sting quite as much, but it does.

The thought makes him anxious in more ways than one. His command is one thing, but a creeping realization that he most probably screwed something up before it even began is a whole other can of worms.

He’s not sure if he has the strength to deal with it.

So, he leaves the ship, seeking the only kind of relief he can afford without hating himself. The bar is dimly lit and he orders the whiskey as he always does, sipping on it as he watches the crowd -– forever on the lookout for injustice; for an excuse to take his mind off things and to do what he does best. But he doesn’t find it and suddenly it doesn’t matter anymore because the alcohol sets in.

It spreads down his body in a wave of pleasant heat and he finally feels like himself. _Ironic_ , he thinks, because he’s never needed liquor to set him right. And then his omni-tool pings, and he knows it’s his C-Sec friends before he even opens the message.

He leaves the shady bar and hails a cab to the Purgatory. His old team is already there, hollering and sliding a drink in his direction as he approaches.

“Vakarian,” one of the guys teases when he sits down, “how’s that I only ever see you drink?”

Garrus laughs as he takes a sip.

“You’d need a drink too if you saw half the things I did,” he says casually, and someone whistles.

“Go on then,” his friend says, “what’s happening in the big ‘ol galaxy?”

Garrus is in the mood to entertain, so he gives them a rundown of the last couple of weeks, enjoying how they all lean closer to listen, their mouths agape anytime he throws in a juicier bit. He does like this kind of attention, he cannot lie.

And maybe someone being actually impressed with him was exactly what he needed because the alcohol keeps flowing, and his stories only get more dramatic, and he’s truly enjoying himself for the first time in weeks.

That is until he stumbles out of the booth to get himself one more glass, and he sees Shepard perched over the railing on the upper deck.

His heart stops for a second, only to start beating in a fast, unsteady rhythm that makes his head dizzy. Garrus wants to laugh at himself, because he doesn’t react like this to life and death situations, yet the sight of Shepard does it for him.

He looks at her, wondering what, if anything, should he do when she looks back at him. This time her eyes are not cold, and he can swear small smile tugs at the corner of her lips before she turns around and disappears in the crowd.

He can feel the heat building in the pit of his stomach, and there’s an insistent voice in the back of his head telling to follow her, but he doesn’t. He figures she must be mellowed out by alcohol and none of this is genuine. Garrus may be many things, but he’s not the one to get his hopes up unnecessarily, and he’s definitely not the type to push himself on anyone -– let alone drunk women.

Or, well, he already tried with Shepard and it ended in the exact poor scenario he’s living through now. He ponders that as much as he likes to disregard his Turian upbringing, he wouldn’t be in this situation if he had only listened to what his father always told him about fraternizing.

_Damn it._

Garrus gets back to the table, but his good mood is gone, and he decides to leave soon after. He makes his way to the ship through the maze of the wards, stopping only to get a quick meal –- he needs to bring his drunkenness down to respectable levels.

His crew may be enjoying the shore-leave, but he doesn’t want to risk looking intoxicated on the off-chance that some of them stayed back on the ship.

When he gets back, the deck’s eerily quiet, and he decides to check on the main guns before he settles in for the night. But as the door open for him, he realizes that he’s not alone.

“Garrus,” Shepard says with a small nod and he stops in his tracks.

The fact that she uses his first name makes his heart flutter, but that's not something he'd like to be known. He clears his throat.

“Shepard,” he acknowledges her presence, and, to his surprise, she smiles.

He’s not sure what she’s playing at, but she’s been avoiding him for so long that any chance to talk to her is the one that Garrus is going to take.

“I’m sorry I disappeared on you,” she starts and her eyes wander to his, “I was already leaving. Needed some peace and quiet.”

“It’s nothing,” he blurts out, and something glimmers in her eyes.

He _really_ needs to get better at his cool-and-collected act. They’re quiet for a few seconds and he starts to wonder where they can go from there when she speaks again.

“I think we need to talk.” Her voice is a bit lower now and she leans on the console behind her back. “I don’t want to play games with you, Garrus.”

He’s dumbfounded by her words, his skin raising in cold and hot prickles as he waits for her continue. Shepard shakes her head before speaking.

“The last few weeks were… weird. I know you’ve noticed that,” she says and he doesn’t answer because they _were_ and he doesn’t want to make it any weirder. Shepard hangs her head before looking back at him. “I distanced myself because you’re supposed to evaluate me,” she says eventually. “I know that you’d never recommend me to the Council if you didn’t believe in my abilities, but things happen when people get _close_.”

There it is. The answer to the question that he’s been rattling in his heads for weeks now. It surprises him that it’s coming down to Shepard’s integrity even though it shouldn’t, because she’s the exact type of person to play by the rules. 

“And I liked being close to you,” she continues softly and his heart stops. “But it can’t affect what we’re doing here.”

Her look is sterner now, applied as if to protect herself from the fallout of what she just said. And the fallout is hanging heavy in the air –- the space suddenly too small and air too hot for Garrus’ liking. He can feel the slow prickle of tension spreading around his body and he knows he needs to keep it together, but his head is a mess. 

She’s right, even if he doesn’t like to admit it.

As nice as their cross-species liaison was, it should never have happened. He should have never allowed himself to go as far –- not physically and _definitely_ not emotionally.

She’s his protégé. He is supposed to evaluate her, and, hell, she’s been annoying him with her self-righteousness for months now. He shouldn’t even like her, let alone want her like this, but her words are rattling inside his skull, and he finds it hard to behave professionally.

“Right,” he says as their eyes lock, “of course. Forget it ever happened. But just for the record, I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

Garrus regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. He’s behaving irrationally, the insane draw for this woman getting the better of him again; turning him into a complete fool.

He tries to read her face to judge how much damage he’s done when her scent hits him. It’s subtle -- an early sign of arousal that would go unnoticed under different circumstances, but which makes his brain go haywire in the situation that they are in now.

Garrus takes a step forward instinctively and she doesn’t as much as flinch.

“I don’t know that,” she says calmly, but suspicion rings in her voice.

It doesn’t surprise him. Garrus rarely plays by the rules and she has no reason to expect it would be different this time.

But it doesn’t matter — not in the way it should because he’s too far gone again.

Her physical closeness is making him tick in a way that he’s ever experienced before, and his brain is running a thousand scenarios on how to proceed to get where he wants to be.

“I can promise you that I’ve never let my personal life dictate how I do my job,” he says finally and her eyes lock on his.

She’s not gullible and she’s not stupid — a reassuring speech won’t sway her — but Garrus knows that his words are just a decoy.

The real conversation is happening in a different realm — in the way they lean towards each other; in the rhythm of their breaths; and in the way their bodies flare with heat as he keeps getting closer.

At this moment, he knows that she wants him as much as he wants her, no matter what her logical mind is saying.

Shepard crosses her arms in the last attempt at distancing herself, but he sees how blood pumps in her neck -- how it gives color to her weirdly soft, human face. His stomach clenches in desire when she takes a small step forward.

“That’s not how we do things,” she utters with a conviction that stands in firm opposition to what her body is saying.

We _humans_. We the Alliance. Rules and regulations that don’t apply to the situation that they are in. Restrictions that don’t make sense when you’re traveling with a Spectre.

“That’s not how I do things either,” Garrus says as he takes one more step forward. “ _Usually_.” They’re so close now that he could bump his forehead on hers if he bent down. “But no-one is telling me I couldn’t. There are no restrictions on what we do here, Shepard.”

Her eyebrows furrow as if he offended her with his words, but she's not a good liar. He knows because he's not a good liar either, and he can see how she fights with herself to do the right thing. He wouldn't put it past her -- they shouldn't be doing what they're doing; those little innuendos shouldn't be flying so freely between him and the candidate he's evaluating. But as seconds pass and the tension between them doesn't get any lighter, he knows she's lost with herself. 

“This,” she says as if she could read his thoughts, “must stay between us.” And then she presses her lips into his mouth-plates, making Garrus hum deep in his chest.

It’s intoxicating –- pleasurable in a way that’s both foreign and known, and his body flares in heat as she pulls on the laps of his suit to get more of him.

This time, he knows what to do.

His tongue slides insider her mouth and her taste makes his head spin. A few months back he’d shudder at the mere idea of the act, but with her it feels right -- intimate in the way that Turians don’t normally experience. And he wants more of whatever else she wants to teach him.

He presses her into the console, disabling it in the process because he still has some _right_ instincts. It’s only then that the realness of it all is coming to him; the fact that he has her again and this time there’s no double-guessing. No wondering if it’s all just pent-up adrenaline.

She does want him and it’s making his blood run hot. 

Garrus lifts her without a warning and sits her down on the console. She’s on him in a matter of seconds, her legs wrapping around his hips, and hands trailing down his stomach. And then she starts kissing his neck.

Her touch is light, but it’s doing ungodly things to him and he must stop himself from growling. His hips buckle between her legs and he places his hands on her waist to pull her even closer –- and he’s at the point where nothing feels close enough. She gasps quietly and the sound makes him dug his talons deeper into her sides.

Her arousal is hanging heavy in the air and he can feel his skin cover in hot prickles as he thinks of tasting her. He doesn’t know where the idea comes from and he doesn’t even know how that would work, but the urge is suddenly too hard to resist, and he wrestles with her pants before he can even stop and think. 

“Do you… Can I…,” he tries to say, but the words are lost on him in the heat of it all. Shepard looks up to his face, eyebrows raised in a quiet question and he clears his throat. “Do you want me to taste you?” He manages to rumble and the way she shivers at the question makes his pressure go up.

She nods her head and he slides the pants down her legs, the hardness in his suit becoming almost uncomfortable. Garrus has no idea how to proceed, but it doesn’t stop him from opening her legs wider, the scent messing with his head and making him grunt incomprehensibly as he gets down to try.

He tastes her –- clumsily and without direction, but the way she feels under his tongue makes up for all the things he doesn’t know. And the way in which her body tenses at the contact, breath hitching in her throat, makes him only more eager to continue. He figures it out to the sounds of her moans, his tongue sliding up and down; traveling on her hot skin and discovering what makes her heart beat faster.

In the midst of it all, she slides her fingers under his fringe -- most probably unaware of how it makes him feel –- and his instincts take over. He’s no longer fully in control of himself, his predatory nature taking the better of him as he wraps his hands around her thighs to bring her closer.

Shepard gasps and his eyes dart to her face, reading into pleasure written across her features. He can feel his body pulsing with desire -- itching to get more; to go further. He wants to devour her and his own lust scares him a little.

“Come here,” she mumbles and he obliges, his head leveling with hers and their eyes locking. She’s working on his pants, her gaze never leaving his face and he rumbles deep in his chest at the thought of taking her. He wraps one of his arms around her waist and brings her closer to the edge of the console.

On a deeper level, he knows he shouldn’t hurry; he doesn’t know when and _if_ they’ll get to do it again. But he can’t stop himself from pressing into her. It’s instinctual, a deep need to bury himself inside; to feel what he felt all those weeks back. And the feeling is indescribable.

Shepard’s hot and tight, and so slick from his earlier machinations that he loses himself for a second, grunting as he tries to stop himself from thrusting.

Garrus tries to focus -– to elongate the moment –- but she jerks her hips, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes as his body tenses at the movement. He puts one of his hands on the console, eyes locked on hers, and he rolls his hips just enough to make her breath hitch.

And then he does it again. And again. And when her hands clutch on his arms in a nagging expectation, he finally gives in.

He thrusts into her in a steady, pointed rhythm –- each thrust punctuated by a small rumble that emerges from his mouth. She wraps her legs around him tightly, forcing him to stay in longer anytime he tries to retract, and her intense need to have him makes his body tremble.

Garrus loses himself in the feeling -- in her heat and scent; in the way she moans, and in the way her hips roll back to meet his. Shepard’s his desire personified and he prays to Spirits that she won’t cast him aside this time.

He looks down on her face, eyelids closed and the little ‘o’ of her lips that makes him pulse with need. He wants to kiss her –- to taste her -- but their height difference makes it impossible, so he settles for pulling her into his chest.

Shepard wraps around him in a haze, her body seemingly closing around him as he changes his pace, his thrusts becoming slower and deeper; orgasm building in his groins.

He wants to feel her coming around him before he gives in, and the way her body tenses and relaxes tells him she’s nearly there.

He puts his hands on her face and makes her look up, mimicking what she did to him last time.

He’s still not entirely comfortable with the act, but the way she looks at him –- the way in which she forces herself to keep her eyes open as he moves inside her -– makes his pleasure almost unbearable.

He loses his rhythm, sliding in and out instinctually, guided only by the promise of her orgasm. It comes suddenly, her eyes rolling back and body tensing as she grasps on his arms.

He picks up the pace, slamming into her as she rides the last wave, and his own orgasm overcomes him –- hot and intense, and he hisses quietly as he finishes.

And then he steps back from in-between her legs, his logical mind coming back to him as he thinks of the repercussions of what they’ve just done.

But they don’t come. Shepard’s putting her clothes back on quietly and there’s no awkwardness between them. No tension in the air. He’s almost worried about the fact that it’s going so smoothly, but she seems to sense his anxiety and reassures him with a gentle smile.

“I don't know where we go from here, Garrus," she says, "but I enjoy our time together." 

He hums quietly as to not let his real emotions show, but he feels pleasant heat in his stomach that lingers there long after she leaves the room. 


End file.
